


Hell or Glory

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hiatus-centered, M/M, Pete/Patrick could be seen as very strong platonic if u wish, implied eating disorder, sort of, that could be a trigger but its not explicitly mentined as one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>October 15, 2009: The very last show the band formerly known as Fall Out Boy played on the same stage before their iconic three and a half year hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell or Glory

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm glad to drop in temporarily to set this here and run. Basically a longer drabble/thought of mine that I fleshed out into a bit more. The angst/fluff isn't super super apparent, and the whole thing is just a mess, so pardon that. Also, this is unedited because I wrote the entire thing on impulse and couldn't be bothered to actually check what i was writing or whether it was cohesive. Whoops. Also, this was originally supposed to be fluffy, except when I put angst into something it's like drinking: can't do just a little. As per usual, this is a work of fiction and I am in no way posting this for profit. Also, all people belong to themselves, and if you are in anyway affiliated with the peole in this work of fiction and you are more than a fan, I highly suggest turning back around. Most browsers have a back button, you can utilize yours.

They come offstage with a more subdued variety of the usual post concert glow. Their instruments are are put away properly, their sound equipment tucked into their own bags. All four of them proceed to Patrick and Pete's dressing room; it's larger and closer to the back exit. They're all encapsulated in a stony silence until Joe breaks it.

"I'm gonna miss this. I'm gonna miss you guys. But we need this break. Who knows, maybe we can come back better than before?" He motions for them to gather in a final group hug, not even caring that they're all sweaty and pulls them in. When they part he doesn't even wait to descend upon his own dressing room, already peeling the perspiration saturated clothing off his chest.

Andy's next to go. He pulls Patrick in and squeezes him tight, whispers something in his ear that Pete catches, albeit a bit distorted. It sounds like "take care of yourself, I'm always here if you need me". Andy's always been Patrick's older brother figure in the band, and Patrick has trusted him with every secret to this day.

Andy ambles up to Pete next, and embraces him wholly. Pete clings to him for dear life. Andy has always been the glue of the band and yet not even he could prevent this, the inevitable from happening. He unwraps his arms, waves, and then disappears into the milky light backstage, heading to where Joe has already retreated.

Which leaves just Patrick and Pete in their own dressing room. Patrick goes to grab a water and some Tylenol for his burning throat when Pete catches him by the wrist, drags him into a tight embrace, wraps his arms around Patrick's (heartbreakingly) much slimmer waist. Pete knew Patrick had lost a lot of weight on the tour, but he didn't really catch onto it until now. And God, was he stupid, because that was an alarming amount of weight to lose in a matter of months, and Pete knew something was off about Patrick but never said anything, and he wishes he could've made Patrick see how good he was before, but it's too late now.

Patrick's arms wrap around Pete's neck like a vice, and his forehead rests on Pete's shoulder. Pete rubs circles into his shoulders and thinks he can relate when he feels Patrick shudder with a stifled sob against him. 

"I'm sorry we had to do this, I'm sorry, I just-" Patrick murmurs into Pete's skin, and Pete thinks he feels something in him break. When Patrick raises his head off Pete's shoulder, there's tear tracks running onto his now prominent cheekbones. Pete knocks off his stupid hat, runs his fingers through the fine, gingery hair. 

"Shush 'Trick. We all need this. It's temporary. We'll be okay. Me and you, we need to get better. Joe needs time to sort out his thoughts, Andy, too. We've worked ourselves out. We need time," Pete assures, fingers trailing down Patrick's face, down his arm and into his hand, which he grips and holds up.

Patrick looks down at his shoes, and he's quiet when he speaks again. "I'm sorry for destroying  all that we worked hard to built. I'm sorry for not letting you guys speak on Folie. They're right, it is too self indulgent..."

 Pete shakes his head vigorously, because Patrick's at his self depreciation again and that's nothing good for anyone.

"'Trick, no. Fuck, I dragged you into this band before you were even legal. You were our golden ticket. You're the reason we can play shows like this. You're amazing, and I wish you and everyone else could see how great you are. And Folie? Fuck, that's the best album we've ever put out. God, if I could inject songs into my veins I would be addicted to that."

Patrick smiles, lifts his chin, wraps his arms around Pete once more. They stand like that for quite a while, they hear the quiet din of the crew, the sound of the lights back on stage flickering off and everyone departing, they hear Andy and Joe leave and the door slams behind them. When they break apart, Patrick's blue eyes are a little misty again.

He steps away, collects his jacket and hat and stuffs them away in a gray backpack slung over his shoulders. Finally, he grabs his guitar case, walks over to where Pete is standing next to an outlet, charging his phone, and kisses him squarely on the cheek. 

"I don't want this to end," he whispers, and Pete smiles up at him from his post on the couch closest to an outlet.

"It's not an end. We aren't at an end. We are just at the intermission," Pete says. He grabs Patrick's hand and kisses his knuckles, smirking ruefully. "When I'm better, and you're better, and Joe and Andy are okay again, we can talk about this with clear brains. Okay? This is not the end, 'Trick. You're far too young for that to be the case."

Patrick smiles a bit, steps back, strides to the door. He sets hiss guitar case down to turn the knob when Pete catches his eye.

"You take care of yourself, Stump. I better not hear any news that you're in jail again, because I'm not gonna bust you out." 

Patrick laughs a bit, smiling. "You too, Wentz. I swear to god, if I have to drag your ass out of a Best Buy parking lot again, I'll kick your ass. Never again, alright?"

Pete grins like the Cheshire cat, shaking his head playfully. "Alright, 'Trick. Alright." He sobers up, though, when Patrick's half out the dressing room door.

"Hey 'Trick? I mean it. Take care of yourself. You're my best friend and we've had this dangerous codependency going on for years. You know I'd be shattered if anything happened to you. I'm only a phonecall away, okay?"

Patrick nods seriously. "Okay," he responds, and then a bit more hesitantly, "Love you, Pete."

Pete responds instantly, and Patrick can't see him but he clearly hears him when he says "Love you too, 'Trick. See you again soon."

Patrick tries not to let his eyes water as he takes the last few steps out into the inky blackness of the night, out of the venue, where a cab is already waiting. He's now no longer Patrick Stump, lead singer of pop-punk band Fall Out Boy, but Patrick Stump, formerly of pop-punk band Fall Out Boy.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read the whole thing, bless your soul. Honestly, bless. You deserve an award.  
> This is also my cue to dissappear for another few months or so...  
> Also, before I get corrected on the last date, please looke up Fall Out Boy Los Premios MTV 2009. I know it wasn't the last date on their tour but it was their last show prehiatus.


End file.
